


speak no evil

by ShiDreamin



Series: Dmcl Week 2020 [4]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU, Clown AU, M/M, Reincarnation, yea you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26051440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShiDreamin/pseuds/ShiDreamin
Summary: They are clowns
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Series: Dmcl Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1882669
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	speak no evil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marlemarle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marlemarle/gifts).



Dimitri’s owner is a kind man of 86.

He attends backgammon tournaments every other Saturday, watches late night food competitions, and overcooks his spinach on a daily basis. He practices French on Fridays, and piano on Thursdays, and though his back creaks and his legs wobble, he spends every Monday dusting old train tracks in preparation for his daughter’s visit on Tuesdays, the model trains he paints himself noisy as they ride on antiquated tracks. There is popsicle stick cities in his office and toothpick empires in his kitchen, and Dimitri only knows this because every other Sunday is cleaning day. He gets dusted, and wiped, and then, in warm hands wrinkled with age, is moved to a new corner. For new adventures. For new views.

For new faces.

It is his daughter who brings the other doll.

The man has a penchant for collections, of all shapes, all sizes, all kinds. It’s how he ended up with Dimitri, mourning the death of the late misses, exchanged for $5 at a garage sale. He bought Dimitri even though the porcelain clown doll had been broken, a jagged line across his face from when he had been thrown, once a time years ago, from one angry owner to the next. Then he was boxed, put away, left in that storage bin against plush lions and forgotten towels, dolls that shared his face and his posture but not his mind, his words, and even in the infinite company of others there had been no response.

Not until fresh hands, new hands, the face of a girl he had never seen before, fished him out and put him on concrete grounds. Scoffed and said he wouldn’t sell.

Dimitri had been their first sale. If he could laugh, loud enough for a human to hear, he would have.

His new owner gasps, delighted, over his daughter’s find. She doesn’t come around enough, in Dimitri’s opinion, their rooms often empty sans the radio tuned to a station that only plays jazz and his owner’s occasional humming. But she never misses a week, and this time, the gift she bears is well worth her absence.

The new doll is beautiful. Porcelain, but newer, without the yellowing around Dimitri’s hands that come with age. Unlike the stains on his old clothing, torn countless years ago and then resewn stitch by stich by kind, old hands, the new doll carries with it a ruffled trim nearly new.

His owner is delighted, refitting the little hat. He lifts the doll up, patting its cheeks, combing its hair, turning it this way and that until—

Dimitri can swear the doll looks his way.

She gets the right to name the doll, as the one who found it, after all. Just as she did with Dimitri, giving him a new name, a new house, and a new owner, who cherished him with real love. She ponders to and fro, swinging around the doll, clearly more attached to it than she was ever with Dimitri, somewhat proud.

“Oh,” she gasps, stomping towards Dimitri. She takes him in her hands, rough, without the delicacy her father does, and brings him side to side with the new addition. If he could turn his head to inspect his newfound friend, he would. Instead, he finds himself staring into her eyes, flickering between them before she turns to call her father.

“Look! They match!” She’s delighted, turning them towards each other, and _ah_ , Dimitri sees now. His blush may have faded in time, but his new friend’s is still cheery, light, as though repainted just a few days ago. He can almost pretend he’s the reason for the pretty rose circles. The similarity, however, ends there. His friend’s hair is a sculpt painted deep brown, his lips a thin smile with a heart set in the center, and, perhaps the most perplexing part, green eyes with glitter. Sparkling, new, certainly from a maker Dimitri’s own would have never approved of.

“They do,” his owner appraises, mirth warm in his voice as he takes them from his hands, returning Dimitri to his shelf. He ponders over his doll once more, fingers running along the paint, until he turns to smile at Dimitri, setting his present to Dimitri’s side. He angles them just the slightest, just enough for Dimitri to not feel so awkward looking at the way their hands touch.

“What do you think of the name Claude?”

It may be just the angle, but the glitter in Claude’s eye makes it look like he’s winking.

**Author's Note:**

> CLOWNNNNSSSS for dmcl day 7: AU
> 
> Did I really just write about reincarnated as clown AU? Yes, yes I did. I said I would write this months ago when Marlon first drew it and here it is. What has my life become? dmcl brain rot
> 
> If u want to yell at me about my life choices here u [ go ](https://twitter.com/shidreamin/)


End file.
